Homewards
by DarthGabithaTheHutt
Summary: A look at Trask's last moments on the Endar Spire


He didn't like Jedi. Too fond of their own voices, too naïve and superior at the same time, too trusting in that blasted Force. When he was a kid, the aloof, unfriendly Jedi Masters and Knights gave him the creeps, he admitted. But it was the events on one planet that hardened his heart to the entire bloody group.

Serroco.

His whole world gone. Destroyed by the Mandalorians in their twisted quest for honour and an enemy worth fighting. So what if there were Republic bases there? There were barely a handful, all on a single continent and the Mandalorians destroyed the entire planet, just to make a point. Nine years later, the world was still barren and desolate, empty of life and people. And the Republic fleet, outnumbered and outgunned, could do nothing to stop it. But something more could've been done. He knew it could've.

Where were the Guardians of the Republic when his world was destroyed? Why weren't they there, using their cursed Force for something worthwhile? But no, they just sat on their Council and counselled patience. Like patience ever ended a war. Like patience could force back the Mandalorians.

Even the Jedi that came after that, who did fight, were scarcely any better in his eyes. The damage was done. The Republic was weakened, falling. His world and countless others were dead or dying. Saviours of the Republic? More like condemners.

And after Malachor, when the rest of the Galaxy was praising the Jedi and thanking them on bended knee, he knew it wouldn't last. And he was right. Scarcely a year later, their 'saviours' were back and the Republic were the target once more.

Not that he really minded. Anything that would give him something to do and maybe shorten his life was ok by him. He didn't care who he fought, Sith, Jedi, Mandalorians, it was all the same to him. All of them were so sure they were in the right, that they had the right to control the Republic. Especially the Jedi and the Sith. Just a load of people squabbling about religion whilst the Galaxy burnt down around them, whilst it fell into darkness.

He hadn't always been so angry, so hate filled. But losing your planet, losing everyone you knew and loved in one swoop, changed a man. For every survivor that managed to keep going, keep living, there were dozens that gave up. Despair can kill a man just as well as a blaster bolt. And there were a few that switched love and pain for hate and anger. It was a life, of a sorts. If there had been just one person responsible for his planet's death, at least he could've gotten some revenge, some closure. But he could hardly go after an entire race, especially not a race like the Mandalorians.

He had paid them back a little of what they deserved, though. Not much, but a little. In every battle he had fought, for every enemy he had shot or cut down, he could avenge his old life, the life they took from him, just a little. Every time he killed a Mandalorian, he avenged someone he had lost. His father, mother, brothers, cousins, best friend… His wife.

His beautiful Neena. In nine years, he had never stopped hurting, never stopped missing her, not even for a second. Some days were better than others, but none were good. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about her, he still talked to her, inside his head. Scenes from their life together played constantly in his mind, torturing him with a life gone, never to be lived again. The first time they met, the time he proposed, their last argument. It was still so relevant for him. So real.

They'd wanted a family. Just before he'd left for war, there had been a chance they had succeeded. She had made him promise that he wouldn't be one of the soldiers who didn't come home to see his child for the first time, that died without seeing them at all. He had made that promise with his whole heart. Two months later, he got a message, just six words.

_We're going to have a son. _

And three weeks after that, he lost everything. So some of those dead Mandalorians were for his son, who never even got a chance at life. The kid would be eight years old now and he had dreams where they were doing all the normal father/son things. Playing ball, going fishing, mock wrestling matches. Such normal things. Normality had never been so heart breaking.

It might have been easier if he had been able to bury his wife and their unborn child, had somewhere to go and grieve. But his entire world was a graveyard. Rescue workers had been forced to bury the dead in huge shared graves and even if there were surviving family members who wanted the bodies of their loved one, most of the corpses were unrecognisable. He hadn't even be able to go back and try to find her. A friend, who by some miracle had survived, hidden in caves somewhere, had told him that their home had been reduced to nothing more than a crater. From their entire town, only two survivors.

He didn't know what he was doing here. This war meant nothing to him. He had nothing left to fight for except revenge and he wasn't even fighting Mandalorians anymore. But he didn't now where else to go. Some people accused him of being suicidal, and it was true in some ways. He'd had enough and just wanted it to be done with. This life, this war, all of it. Because there was no victory for him, no happy ending. Such a thing, even the very idea of such a thing, had died with the woman he loved. He saw other refugees, making new lives for themselves, other widowers meeting new people, and hated them all. He didn't know how they could do it, just seem to forget and move on. For him, there wasn't anywhere to move on to. Not that he really wanted to. The past doesn't let go, no matter how bad it had been.

It was easier to just be a soldier. Follow orders, keep your uniform smart and never look beyond today. It had worked for nine years. He had managed to avoid Jedi and other refugees from Serroco. Nine years of fight after fight, every time hoping that it would be the last.

But this assignment was… different. All he had to do was keep an eye on one green recruit, who despite having a seriously impressive record of illegal endeavours seemed not to know the simplest things about life as a normal soldier. Yeah, right, just another recruit – with ties to the most important Jedi to the war effort.

"_All hands, abandon ship. The Sith are boarding the Spire. I repeat, the Sith are boarding the Spire. All hands to the escape pods."_

It had been such a normal day up till then. He had done some repairs in one of the shuttle bays, reported to Bastila, fooled around in the mess hall. Such unimportant events. He felt like he should have done something more memorable on his last day. Started a fight, or told Bastila how annoying she was. Something, anything, just not run-of-the-mill. But it was too late now. He had his orders. So he had followed them. Even though he hated them.

"_We have to get to the Bridge and protect Bastila!"_

The recruit, for all that he was connected to the Jedi and irritatingly clueless, was important to the war effort. That's what the Jedi had said. And although anyone connected to the Jedi was cursed in his eyes, he found it in him to hope the other man survived and got off this ship. Neena would've liked him to protect others. Even from beyond the grave, she managed to affect him and make him a better man. And he loved her for that, as much as he ever had.

He was soldier. He would do his duty.

"_I'll hold him off! You get to the escape pods, go!"_

But standing here, feeling so small, Trask Ulgo found that he wasn't ready to die.

The Dark Jedi standing in front of him was laughing, enjoying the power he had over the frightened trooper. And Trask was scared, terrified, because as much as he hated the Jedi, he had never faced one before. Never even considered it as an option. He wasn't the guy who got involved with lightsabers. He wasn't a hero. He was just Trask.

And he wanted to go home.

Shutting his eyes, Trask tried to stop the tears trickling down his checks. He wasn't afraid of death. He was terribly, mortally afraid of what came after.

What if she wasn't there?

He didn't want to die.

But he didn't have anything else to live for.

They had only married for a few years. Neena had never been happy with the idea of him being a soldier, with all the murmurs of the threat from the Mandalorians. And he had promised her that nothing would happen, that he would come home again safe. But when he got the chance, there wasn't a home to go to. No wife to welcome him back, make him promise never to go away again.

He didn't have anything to live for.

He didn't want to die.

Serroco was gone.

Neena was gone.

Even with his eyes closed, Trask knew when the Dark Jedi raised his lightsaber for the killing blow. His senses were in overdrive. You've only got a few moments left, they said, so let's remember every tiny detail.

He saw his house, the old speeder parked outside. The giska that his wife used to feed hopping around the house. His beautiful wife…

He was going to die.

She was right in front of him, smiling but with tears in her eyes, clear as day, every detail perfect. The house was behind her, she was waving to him, wanting him to come closer. He could see her so clearly. She was still there. Waiting for him. Still loving him. With a tiny baby in her arms.

And Trask Ulgo made himself open his eyes, facing his soon-to-be-killer.

And managed to smile.

He was going home.


End file.
